


Going Steady

by itsallAvengers



Series: Pulse-Point [1]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Like.... A LOT a lot, M/M, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Steve Rogers, Slice of Life, Steve Rogers Loves Tony Stark's Heart. A Lot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-30
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-09-30 20:36:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17230796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsallAvengers/pseuds/itsallAvengers
Summary: Steve has a soft spot for the sound of Tony's heart





	Going Steady

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kellerkind](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kellerkind/gifts).



> For Rainbowliebe on tumblr, who asked for a post civil-war fic focusing on Tony's heart, and how much Steve loved it / worried over it. Hope this is what you were looking for!

Tony Stark’s heart had been through a lot, since becoming a superhero.

Steve had been aware of that right from the start, when he first met Tony- known then only as ‘Stark’, the genius billionaire playboy asshole who he’d disliked on sight. He’d read Tony’s file, seen the medical reports _: ‘Shrapnel lodged within the chest’_ it’d said, _‘electromagnet is required to prevent metal from penetrating the heart.’_ Even then, only a few days after waking up in the brand new century, Steve had figured that was a pretty serious injury. And at first, when he’d seen the Arc Reactor glowing faintly through Tony’s chest, he’d assumed it had merely been a piece of surface equipment, placed over Tony’s heart in order to keep everything running good and smooth. For months after, too, Steve had continued with that belief- the tower at which Tony had invited him to live was a big place, and so they’d not exactly spent much time together even once they moved into the same building. It was hard to get to know a man when he spent 90% of his time in his workshop and the other 9% in a metal suit.

Steve will never forget the first time he realised how deep the reactor actually went, though- not even now, years and years later. He can still hear Tony’s words, clear as day in his head, as if it were only yesterday. Steve had asked how heavy the reactor was one time, while he’d been observing it in the half-lit kitchen at some God forsaken hour of the night, and Tony had glanced down briefly with a small frown before waving a vague hand.

“changes, depending on the upgrades that I give it every few months,” he’d said casually, “I mean, it’s about three inches in length and four in diameter, but the inside is hollow, so from a realistic viewpoint it doesn’t actually weigh that much.” Tony had paused, and then looked away with a small smile. “Sure feels like a weight some nights, though.”

It had taken a moment for the words to properly sink into Steve’s overtired brain. He remembered trying to comprehend what Tony was saying, make sense of the dimensions that Tony was giving him. But then it had clicked, like a terrible lightbulb as his mouth had dropped open and he’d turned his head back to the beautiful glowing light in Tony’s chest; the one that had carved through his chest cavity and lodged itself mere millimetres from the organ that kept him alive, kept his blood pumping and his muscles moving and his body functioning.

 

And that- that had been the first time that Steve realised just how fragile Tony’s heart was.

 

It had been like a terrible list in Steve’s head, after that. He wasn’t sure why he’d started it in the first place, exactly- maybe because there was something so intriguing about the soft blue glow which emanated from the centre of Tony’s chest, or perhaps just the fact that as time progressed, Steve found himself becoming more and more close with Tony, and therefore more involved in his life- but either way, the list began. A record of everything Tony had put his heart through; the injury in Afghanistan, the Palladium poisoning- hell, there were about ten different occasions alone in which various villains they’d fought had tried to go for the reactor, knowing that it was Tony’s weakness. Some nights, Steve wondered how Tony hadn’t just keeled over yet. He remembered what it was like to have a weak heart. To feel the pressure inside you all the time, so much so that you eventually got used to the pain after a while. It hurt to think of Tony going through that too, so Steve tried not to think about it too much.

He’d gotten on with life, with his friendship with Tony, without ever mentioning the little worries he always kept safe inside- the nagging thoughts of Tony’s health, his wellbeing. It had taken a remarkably short amount of time for Steve to go from practically hating him to- well- to loving him, really, and in that time he’d rapidly bumped Tony up in priority, until there were very few things in life that Steve would put above him. Tony returned the sentiment, too- he’d been there after the whole falling-into-the-Potomac thing with a long rant about the importance of calling team mates when a billion people were about to die, and then a promise that he’d help Steve to try and find Bucky if he wanted. Steve, too, was one of the first on the scene when Tony’s rather impulsive invitation of terrorists into his home led to his presumed death. He remembers that feeling, too. The crushing, overwhelming grief in his stomach when the news first rolled in. The belief immediately afterward that, unless they found a body, then Tony was not dead. Of course, he’d been right in the end (thank god)- Tony had shown up a few days later, relatively unscathed. Steve had made sure to get in his fair sure of yelling before pulling the absolute idiot in for a hug, letting the relief seep in through his bones at the fact that Tony was okay.

Throughout the years, Steve had loved him quietly, wholly, simply. The Avengers had grown and changed, and through it all Steve’s feelings had never wavered. Tony explained later that he’d felt the same- that he’d always tried to think of a way or a moment to say it, but there had just never been a good time.

And then things had fallen apart.

Steve didn’t like to think of that time in his life much, either. It was funny, really, in a very bittersweet kind of way- Steve had always worried about the state of Tony’s heart for years, and in the end, it was him who had ended up doing just as much damage to it as any other villain. The thought still kept him awake, some nights. He knew that it kept Tony up too, and that… Steve really hated that. To know that at least some of Tony’s nightmares contained him. For the most part, though, they worked around it as best they could. They were superheroes- and no, Steve would never forgive himself for putting his shield down into the centre of Tony’s arc reactor until he heard it crack, but for some reason, Tony _had_ , and Steve… Steve just had to spend the rest of his life making up for that, now. It was all he could do.

It was what he _would_ do.

 

They’d been through a lot, since the first battle of New York. They’d faced Robot uprisings and being on different sides of a political war- they’d dealt with a two year separation that had left Steve feeling colder than the ice ever had, and then been pushed back together again when Thanos had arrived and almost managed to successfully destroy one half of the universe. They’d fought side-by-side through hell and high water, and now, somehow, they’d managed to come out the other end. Since they’d kissed after the final battle against Thanos, desperate and euphoric and full of that _‘I’m so fucking glad you’re alive’_ feeling, neither of them had ever looked back. Neither of them fucking _wanted_ to- the past was too twisted, too complicated, too full of hurt and loss. The only way forward was to carry on, to move past it. That’s what Tony told him, anyway. And Steve…

Well. After knowing what it was like to be away from the dark smiles and rolling eyes and that metallic blue glow that made up his home- Steve decided that he would follow Tony anywhere. To the ends of the earth, if need be.

Steve wasn’t sure what twist of fate had let that happen. But God- he was so glad that it had. So, so glad.

 

Smiling down at Tony’s peacefully sleeping frame, Steve rolled onto an elbow and watched his chest move steadily up and down. It was still early in the morning, and although early risers like Nat and Bruce would already be shuffling around in the compound, most people – Tony included – were not going to be moving for a good few hours. Steve himself didn’t usually wake up at this hour either, but the crack in their blinds had let a stream of sunlight smack him right in the face, and once he was up, it was hard to fall back to sleep again.

He traced his fingers gently over the curve of Tony’s shoulder, biting down on a small chuckle when Tony mumbled incoherently and wriggled closer to him in response. His hair lay flat across his forehead and over his pillow – he’d been letting it grow out recently, and Steve adored it. He especially adored the little flecks of grey that were scattered across the dark brown. Maybe it was silly, but just the thought that Tony had made it far enough to _have_ grey hair was… it meant a lot. That was all.

It was the little things, that Steve tended to love the most.

His fingertips came to rest softly against Tony’s neck, and Steve absently listened in to the steady, peaceful thrum of Tony’s heartbeat as it thumped through the pulse-point under his jaw. Good, solid, rhythmic. Steve gave a small nod to himself and then slipped his hand lightly through Tony’s hair, stroking some of the strands back behind his ear. There was still a little scar there, just peeking out from Tony’s hairline- a mark put there when Tony had been on Titan battling Thanos, and had never quite faded. Tony was full of scars and damage- pockmarked by memories of fights that had left their impacts upon Tony’s fragile skin. Sometimes Steve counted them, when his hands roamed across the other man’s body. Sometimes he thought about the three indents- chest, forearm and eye socket- that he himself had put there.

He bit his lip and looked away, hand slipping off carefully. It was in the past. Done. They were superheroes, and this was just… this was just their life. That’s what Tony told him, anyway, whenever Steve’s gaze lingered on them too long.

He sighed quietly and then leaned down, kissing Tony’s forehead softly as he slipped off the bed. A coffee called to him, and he was sure that the same went for Tony too, who would undoubtedly wake up within the hour now that Steve had risen.

Of course, he turned out to be correct. As if able to smell the aroma of coffee brewing from three floors down, Tony stumbled into the communal kitchen barely five minutes later, Steve’s sweater hanging haphazardly off his shoulders and his feet covered in fluffy slippers that made him look completely adorable. Steve turned to him with a soft smile, opening his arms just as Tony stumbled into them with a small groan. “God, why did you have to get up so damn early?”

“Sorry,” Steve traced his thumb over the back of Tony’s neck and then kissed his temple, “if it helps, I made coffee?”

Tony jumped onto his tiptoes and peered over Steve’s shoulders, inspecting it. “That’ll do, I suppose,” he said gruffly, before slipping away in order to fetch his mug from the counter.

Steve just rolled his eyes and then slipped onto the barstool next to him. “Love you too!” He responded sarcastically, waving a hand to Peter as the kid trundled into the room, noticeably disheveled. Steve would bet his bottom dollar that the kid had spent the night in Tony’s lab again.

“Morning, Cap,” Peter murmured, “coffee?”

“Here,” Tony pointed and then pulled down a cup, sliding it over the counter, “and if I go into my shop and there’s webbing all over the place again, I’m going to burn your suit. Just an FYI.”

Peter groaned, “that was one time, and it was a malfunction!”

Tony glared at him stonily, and Peter just sighed in defeat. “Alright, yeah, fine, it’s clean,” he muttered, “thanks for letting me use it anyway.”

Steve watched across the room as Tony’s gaze turned fonder, ruffling Peter’s hair as he passed. “Yeah, well, only the best for the hotshot at MIT, right? Can’t have you failing- that’ll just look bad on me, I’m the one supposed to be mentoring you.”

Peter grinned happily at him and then hopped up onto the counter, grabbing a box of cereal left out by Clint as he and Tony continued to banter back and forth while Steve listened in amusement. The two of them were like peas in a pod in so many ways, and it was easy to see the deep bond that ran between them. Steve could still remember the look on his face when they’d managed to bring Peter back home, reverse the damage done by Thanos. Watching Tony sprint forward and haul Peter into a shaking hug had been the first sign of hope that Steve had seen in years- the first inkling of realization that they’d actually won, that they had control again, that their loved ones had finally come home.  

He smiled and looked down at his mug of coffee, a warm feeling spreading through his chest as he heard the sounds of his friends all around him. This… this was how it should always have been. And it had taken them a long time- too long- to get there, but Steve was just glad that they’d finally made it. And hey- no one had ever said that the life of a superhero would ever be an easy road to follow.

“Steve?” He blinked and turned, landing back to reality as he saw Tony round the table and slide into the stool next to him. “Did you hear any of that?” The other man asked with a small smile.

Steve pulled a face. “It’s like, 8 in the morning- were you really expecting anything else?”

At that, Tony laughed, their shoulders brushing together as he leaned into Steve’s space. “Fair point,” he conceded, “but I was just saying that I’m gonna be out all day today. We’re gonna have to reschedule date night for some other time.”

Steve could admit, he may have pouted a little. “What’s keeping you?” He asked, mentally running through Tony’s agenda for the day. Nothing that he knew of, anyway.

But Tony’s face soured, and he rolled his eyes. “There’s some corporate shit down at SI. Someone is fucking with our system, and they’re not getting far, but it’s caused a huge upset within a lot of divisions and now I’m mostly just going to be putting out fires and assuring board members that we’re not going to go down any time soon.” He shrugged, then leaned his head against Steve’s shoulder with a sigh. “Wish we could’ve just stayed in bed,” he muttered.

Steve laughed softly, winding his hand around Tony’s waist and leaning over to kiss the crown of his head. “Who cares about the billion-dollar company,” he purred in response, “come cuddle with me.”

“Guys, that’s gross!” Peter whined from across the kitchen, and when both Tony and Steve turned to shoot him dirty looks, he just widened his eyes and then pointed a finger at Bruce accusatorily. “Don’t look at me like that, Doctor Banner agrees!”

Bruce just blinked bewilderedly from where he was stooped over the counter reading the morning newspaper. “Huh?”

“Sometimes I wonder how you got into this superhero business,” Tony told Peter blankly, “you are a complete disaster of a person.”

Peter just shrugged, shovelling more cereal directly from the box into his mouth. “That’s fair.”

Steve buried his laugh in Tony’s hair as the other man just sighed in exasperation. Just from the way that he was leaning heavily against Steve, it was clear to see that he was still exhausted. Tony hadn’t been getting much sleep lately- an occurrence that all of them were pretty used to by now.

He stroked his fingers gently across Tony’s hair and frowned. “You sure you can’t just go in a little later? Maybe get some rest for now?”

But Tony just laughed and then pushed himself back upright, rubbing his eyes tiredly as he finished his cup of coffee. “Unfortunately, that may annoy my board members a little. And I’m not sure how long I can keep using the ‘I helped save the universe’ excuse before they stop accepting it.”

“How are they _ever_ supposed to stop accepting that excuse?” Steve muttered with a frown, “I’d say that earns you the right to do whatever the fuck you wanted, really.”

Tony smiled tiredly, sliding his hand over Steve’s own where it lay against the table. Steve turned his palm face-up and wrapped his fingers tight around Tony’s own. Faintly, he felt the thrum of a pulse once more- faster, this time. Too fast for a morning, surely.

Tony poked him. “If I needed a heart-monitor, I’d buy one,” he said, but it was more fond than annoyed, and so Steve looked down with a blush.

“Sorry,” he muttered, thumb stroking one last time before letting go, “I just-“

“-worry like an insatiable mother-hen?” Tony finished, elbowing him lightly in the ribs as he raised his eyebrows. When Steve smiled bashfully, Tony leaned in and took a taste. “You don’t have to worry about me,” he mumbled against Steve’s mouth, “if Thanos can’t kill me, nothing can.”

Steve just sighed. Tony always thought about the dangers from the outside world, and it was true, he was always one step ahead of _those_ \- but it wasn’t the outside that Steve was particularly worried about. It was the fact that Tony’s own body was put through the grinder every other day- his heart had been through more in one lifetime than most would go through in five, and yet he was still pushing it to the extreme. Steve had no idea how Tony even coped with the stress. And he couldn’t help but worry that one day Tony would collapse under the pressure of it all.

But he knew it was pretty stupid, really. Steve just worried, because he supposed it was in his nature. Sometimes, Tony just seemed so… fragile.

“Don’t hit any old men,” Steve told him instead of voicing any of that, smiling up at Tony as he straightened his back. When Tony punched him gently on the shoulder, he just rolled his eyes. “Oh ha ha ha. I was talking about the board members.”

“Well, I make no promises with that one,” Tony told him with a shrug, “I helped save the universe. I can do whatever the fuck I want, right?” He grinned and then leaned down, kissing Steve one last time before sliding off and then heading out of the kitchen, giving Peter a gentle shove as he went. Steve watched him go with a fond smile on his face, eyes drifting down to watch Tony’s ass in appreciation.

“That’s gross,” Peter told him, and Steve just sighed.

“Kid, if you’re gonna be hanging around here more often, you might wanna get used to that.”

Peter pulled a face, shoving more cereal into his mouth and picking up his phone. Steve turned back to Tony, but by that point the man was already gone, undoubtedly to put on a thousand-dollar suit and then yell at crusty businessmen for ten hours. Steve knew he’d be exhausted when he came back that evening- he always was, on days like this. If there was one thing Steve didn’t think Tony would ever stop doing, it was working himself to the bone for the things that he cared about. There were good and bad aspects to that, of course, but Steve just wished Tony would look after himself a little better, that was all. He put everything into his job, and then came back totally drained. Steve had accepted that was just a part of Tony Stark a long time ago- but it was still difficult to watch him do it.

“What’s with the frown, Captain?” Peter asked, throwing a cheerio his way. The kid had gotten a lot more comfortable around the whole team after getting to know them through the past year, and Steve was glad of that- although he could admit, he’d preferred it when Peter was too scared to throw bits of food at him. He huffed and picked the cheerio up, throwing it right back, and of course, the reflexive little shit just snapped it up into his mouth.

“He works himself too hard,” Steve mumbled, nodding his head over to where Tony had been. Peter hummed in understanding, hopping off the counter and sliding the box of cereal back into its place in the cupboard.

“He’s a scientific genius and one of the most successful businessmen on Earth,” Peter said with a small huff of laughter, “what else do you expect?”

Steve grunted in acknowledgment, fiddling with the corner of his paper. “Yeah,” he responded, “doesn’t stop me worrying, though.”

Peter nodded understandingly- and he was taller now; more grown up since Steve had first met him back in 2016 when everything had kicked off between the Avengers-  but the childlike sense of optimism was still prevalent in his actions, and he smiled at Steve as if everything was going to be alright in the world. “I’ll make sure he doesn’t work himself too hard,” he said with a nod, “I’m going in today to for the internship anyway. I’ll check on him.”

Steve looked at him with a small smile. Peter, of all people, was hardly one to make an astute judgement on whether or not a person was working themselves too hard- sometimes Steve’s trips to the workshop involved carrying not one, but two geniuses out of the room and into various beds. But he appreciated the sentiment all the same, and nodded gratefully. Like he'd said- it was silly anyway. Tony could look after himself, and Steve just had to trust that he wouldn’t strain himself too much.

“Thanks, Kid,” he said fondly, and Peter pulled a face at the term as he always did whenever someone mentioned his age. He seemed to think that because he was eighteen now, that made him an adult in the eyes of everyone. Maybe legally it did- but no way in hell would Steve see him like that. He could turn fifty and Steve would probably still think of him as a youngster. He had the feeling everyone else in the team felt the same too.

“How many times do I have to hear that,” Peter muttered as he walked out, “I can legally get married now. Legally own a house. I’m _not_ a kid-“

“Maybe take a nap if you’re still feeling cranky by midday,” Steve called to him on the way out, and then grinned in amusement as Peter stuck his middle finger up behind his head and then hopped into the elevator, leaving Steve on his own in the kitchen.

The day passed by relatively uneventfully, with no world-ending catastrophes or life-changing news to be heard. Steve busied himself with completing some of the little things that he’d been meaning to do for the past few weeks or so, including repainting one of the kitchen walls that Natasha had managed to ruin and go to the store to buy some more art supplies that he’d been running low on. It was an easy day, and by mid afternoon Steve was able to just relax and let himself doodle absently in his notebook as he watched a few movies that he’d gotten FRIDAY to bookmark. Of course, he inevitably ended up drawing Tony’s reactor after a while. It was what he usually ended up coming back to if he ever got any free time to draw. It didn’t matter how many years passed, Steve didn’t ever think that he was ever going to get bored of that beautiful creation sat in Tony’s chest. Not only was it an artistic marvel, but it kept the man Steve loved alive. Kept his wonderful heart beating. That in itself made it a blessing.

Steve ran his thumb softly over the lines of pencil, smudging the picture a little. It was an older version of the reactor that he’d drawn. Not the very first model that Tony had shown him, but a few upgrades after that. Steve knew each one by memory, at that point, and he was pretty sure that this one was his favourite. That being said, it _was_ rather hard to compare. Steve found all of them beautiful.

He whiled away a few more hours down in the gym with Thor, sparring and training good-naturedly with the God until both of them were exhausted and sweating buckets. He spent a longer than usual amount of time in the shower after that, cleaning himself up, allowing the steam and the sounds of gentle swing music that he had filtering through the speakers to send him into a state of relaxed laziness. It was rare Steve got time off like this. He enjoyed savouring it when he could.

The rest of the night was spent cooking, going through a few mission reports and then catching up on his reading list a little. All in all, a pleasant nothing-day, and by 11 in the evening Steve decided to eventually head off to bed, calling it a night and bidding any lingering Avengers goodnight as he wandered into the elevator. He’d need an early night to face tomorrow anyway- the Guardians of the Galaxy were stopping off for a refuel and catch-up, and as much as Steve liked them, they were definitely…. A lot to deal with.

Of course, he was half-way to falling into a peaceful sleep when suddenly the door of his room flung open, and the whirlwind that was Tony Stark burst through it.

Steve blinked his eyes open, rolling onto his other side and watching in surprise as Tony sighed heavily and then dropped his briefcase at the door, throwing his jacket onto the chair nearby. He was distracted and jittery, and looked as if he hadn’t even noticed Steve was in the room at all. When Steve sat up a little, however, Tony’s eyes jumped to his in shock. “Oh,” he said, “Steve- sorry, I didn’t… hi. Sorry for waking you.”

Steve smiled tiredly, shaking his head. “You didn’t, don’t worry,” he responded quietly, “you’re back late. How was work?”

Tony’s face fell. “Long,” he responded glumly, “there’s… did you happen to look at the stocks today?”

“Do I want to?”

“No.”

Steve made an apologetic face and then extended his hand out toward Tony. The other man accepted the invitation gladly, walking forward on clumsy legs and then taking the open hand, allowing Steve to pull him in and wrap his arms around Tony’s waist. Tony’s body screamed weariness; he must have had a very different day to Steve’s.

“You work too hard,” Steve couldn’t help but mutter, pressing his mouth against Tony’s reactor and breathing him in, “should just quit. Spend more time here.”

Tony laughed tiredly, hands going to Steve’s hair and stroking through. Steve preened, pushing into Tony’s touch. He loved when Tony played with his hair like that. “What, so you get me all to yourself?”

“Yeah, basically.” Steve grinned and dropped his hand, squeezing Tony’s ass playfully and then smiling harder when Tony yelped. “Bit of a possessive asshole like that, I’m afraid.”

Tony hummed contentedly, undoing his tie and then popping open a few buttons as Steve watched him intently. He loved the transition Tony made from business to casual- loved the fact that he was one of the few people who got to actually see it happen. For some reason, it felt strangely intimate.

“You know,” Tony murmured, “some days, I think about it. Just packing shit up, becoming a full time housewife. It’d be nice, huh? I’ll spend the rest of my life as your kept man.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “You’d last a week before you got bored of that.”

“Mmm, I think you’d be surprised,” Tony told him with a wink, before sliding down onto Steve’s lap and pulling him in for a kiss. “I’d find other ways to amuse myself.”

Steve hummed and pulled Tony by the waist, biting down on his lover’s bottom lip gently. “Involving me, I hope?”

“What do you take me for, Steve? Of course they’d involve you. Maybe even more than one you, if I can wheedle those interdimensional secrets out of Reed.”

Steve laughed as they kissed, lying down slowly and letting Tony rest on top of him as he lazily unbuttoned his shirt and tugged it out from his trousers. Steve’s hands curled under Tony’s jaw gently, feeling the comforting beat of Tony’s heart through his fingertips, steady and solid. Sometimes, when they were this close, Steve didn’t even need to touch him in order to hear it thanks to his enhanced senses. He listened to it to help him sleep, occasionally. Tony’s heartbeat rang out through the silence of their room, grounding Steve to the present in a way that very few things could. It gave Steve a meaning. Something to stick around for.

They made out lazily for a minute or two, before Steve finally reached down and went for Tony’s belt. It had been a long day for Tony, and now Steve could help him relax a little; let him just have fun. Of course, though, almost as soon as his hand started to undo the buckle, a ringing buzzed out from Tony’s back pocket, and he paused in order to lift his head and curse. “That’s my emergency tone,” he whispered apologetically, sitting up from Steve’s chest a little, “sorry- I should…”

“Yeah, yeah, go ahead,” Steve told him with a wave, feeling the cool air hit him as Tony sat up properly and pulled his phone up to his ear.

“What?” Tony asked a little snappily, “Jason, it’s nearly midnight, we agreed not to-“

Steve watched Tony pause, and then sigh heavily as muttered words were spoken through the phone. He untangled himself from Steve and stood up, a hand going to his forehead. The stress was back in his shoulders again. “What do you mean? I thought we’d just spent the whole day fixing that _exact_ issue.”

Over the next twenty seconds, Steve looked on sympathetically as Tony paced the room, talking hurriedly to one of his employees. He couldn’t help but watch the way the man’s fingers absently rubbed over his arc reactor in a soothing motion; how he grabbed his left wrist and squeezed, a nervous habit of his. He knew it was silly to overanalyse things like that- but still. Steve remembered the way patients in his ma’s ward had done the same thing. Heart-pains and strokes and cardiac arrests had either come before or after. Not that Tony was… it was probably nothing.

Steve just loved to worry, that was all.

“I have to go,” Tony said, which pulled Steve back into the moment as he blinked in surprise.

“Really?” he asked, “it’s like, 11:50. How long are you going to be gone?”

Tony just shrugged. “Until I can sort this out, I guess.” He sighed and then leaned against the wall, starting to button up his shirt once more with a weary smile. “No rest for the wicked, unfortunately.”

Steve frowned, watching Tony as he pulled his jacket back off the chair. “Try not to stay there too long,” he told him, “you haven’t been sleeping well these past few days. You gotta rest up sometime soon, Shellhead.”

Tony threw a smile over his shoulder and lifted his briefcase back up. “I’ll rest when there’s world peace,” he quipped, hurrying over to Steve and dropping a hurried kiss to his lips, “I’ll be back as soon as I can,” he promised, “but don’t wait up for me.”

Steve sighed. “Love you.”

“Love you too, sugar!” The door closed hurriedly, and Steve listened to Tony’s footfalls as they hurried back down the corridor as fast as they’d come in. As long as Steve had known him, Tony had always been like this. During the period when Thanos had come and destroyed half the planet, Steve didn’t think Tony’s brain had ever switched off for a single second, not even in sleep.

He lay back down, hand falling across the empty side of the bed. This was just part of the lives they all led, Steve supposed. Part of the package. Although sometimes, he really wished Tony _could_ be his kept man. Maybe then he’d stop working himself half to death.

He sighed and shut his eyes, feeling the lethargy creep back up on him as soon as he got comfortable again. Within five minutes, he’d drifted off into a peaceful doze, but his mind continued to flit and jump through images and snapshots of Tony, a little ebb of worry underlying his thoughts. He’d long since fallen into a deep sleep by the time Tony came back to bed again hours later, but he automatically turned in response to the feeling of a warm body joining his under the covers, and he gently wrapped his arms around Tony’s waist and buried his head into the familiar darkness of his shoulder comfortably, muttering something incoherent to the other man in greeting. Only half awake, he still managed to pull up a sleepy smile in response to Tony’s laugh. It really was the best sound in the world.

He fell back to sleep hearing Tony’s quiet ‘I love you’ being whispered into his hair.

 

 

 

 

_

 

 

 

 

Of course, it wasn’t always easy.

 

Steve wished it was. Wished that the bad things could happen, but when they were done they _stayed_ done- they didn’t come back, didn’t fester and manifest in different ways as time went on. He wished that they could move on from what hurt them.

But they couldn’t. There were years and years of trauma on both of their backs. There was betrayal, and hurt, and loss and grief and pain and everything you could think of, really. Steve knew, every time that he went to bed with the man he loved, that there was a chance that man could wake up screaming because of a nightmare that Steve himself had caused.

It was a debilitating thing to think about.

Of course, the Civil War was somewhat vanilla in comparison to some of the more recent events. Both Steve and Tony had their fair share of trauma there- half of the world had been lost, and that wasn’t something you just forgot. Tony had gone through hell on Titan- stabbed, beaten, lost Peter, left abandoned on a dying spaceship…. It hadn’t been an easy few years for them, to say the least. And usually, that was what Steve woke up to Tony screaming about. Steve himself had his fair share, although he dreamed quietly, stone-still, and so rarely ever woke Tony unless he had to get out of bed to wash his face or, on the worse nights, throw up. During those periods (because they were longer than just nights, Steve couldn’t shake those sorts of nightmares off for a while, they stuck to him like glue and haunted his every move), Steve often went through everything without speaking, without communicating. Tony was there for him when he could be, and Steve was always grateful that the other man never forced him to try and keep up a conversation and was happy to simply exist in silence with him, offering his contact and warmth as an anchor.

Tony, on the other hand, suffered in rapid, intense bursts. Panic attacks, usually- ranging from short and sharp and frequent throughout the day, to long and severe and utterly devastating, usually hitting late at night when the world got too quiet for his brain to cope with. It started with general jitteriness. Steve had learned the difference between the mania of sleeplessness or invention, and the barely contained panic that came with his trauma. Along with it, Tony would usually lose his appetite as well- a trait that had only arrived after getting him back from space.

Steve knew the signs. And so a few days later, when he woke up to an empty bed, went down to the workshop and saw Tony sitting at his desk with a spaced-out look on his face as his leg went up and down in rapid motion, he knew that it wasn’t a good omen. Tony refused to stay home from work, however, and so Steve could only watch a little helplessly as Tony hauled himself over to Stark Industries once more to try and solve whatever ongoing problem there was at the company, ignoring any of Steve’s gentle encouragements to just take the day and let his mind rest for a second. Tony never goddamn learned- every time, he thought that occupying his mind would be the solution, but forgot that often his occupations caused far more stress than relief.

But what could Steve do? He couldn’t stop Tony, not when he was like this. Tony simply wouldn’t listen.

So instead, Steve waited. He was on edge all day, worrying about the state that his lover was in, but Tony only answered his texts with short confirmations and brisk one-worders. It could have been because he was busy sorting out the company, although it didn’t exactly ease Steve’s nerves much. He knew that sometimes Tony just needed the space- but it was still difficult, to try and understand that. Steve wanted so badly to help, to make it better. Knowing that he couldn’t was just… bad.

If he’d thought the day spent worrying over him had been bad, however, then he’d definitely not been prepared for what happened when Tony came home.

In hindsight, Steve should really have seen it coming. Should have known, somehow. Of course, _logically_ he knew it was impossible- like he’d said earlier, trauma stuck around and hit randomly and there was no way to truly tell which nightmare would rear its head that day- but in situations like that, it was hardly as if logic and reason took front seat.

More like crushing guilt and sickening horror, really.

Again, it had been one of those nights where Tony hadn’t arrived home until late at night, once Steve had already fallen into bed. Maybe sometime around 1 in the morning. Steve had only woken very briefly in order to mumble an exhausted greeting and then curl back into Tony’s side, and that had probably been the most stupid decision of all. He hadn’t asked if Tony was okay. How his day had gone. Whether he was feeling better. He’d just been… he’d been tired, and not thinking straight, and he’d let Tony down, dammit. And Tony hadn’t acted as if anything was wrong- he’d balled his hands up against Steve’s chest and snuggled in like he did every night, and everything had felt normal.

So he’d fallen back to sleep.

 

And then woken up again when Tony had started screaming.

 

With a lurch, Steve had been awake instantly, jolting upright and then turning to face Tony in panic. The man was thrashing around in bed, hands scrabbling at the sheets and then moving to his face as he’d curled in on himself, a tightly wound ball of terror. And Steve had done what he did every time this happened: he’d shifted smoothly, gently taken Tony’s shoulder, and shaken him awake, softly muttering the other man’s name in his most soothing voice. It had taken a while- when Tony dreamed like this, it was hard to wake him, but he’d always begged Steve to just keep trying until he got a reaction, and so Steve had followed his orders. Eventually, Tony’s whimpers had subsided and his body relaxed, eyes blinking blearily open as the dream lifted and brought him back into the real world of their room.

“Tony?” Steve had whispered worriedly, his hand moving absently from Tony’s shoulder to his chest, checking his heartbeat.

Big mistake.

Like a bullet from a gun, Tony had shot back, scrambling away from Steve and hitting the headrest so hard that Steve felt the vibration ring through the mattress. His eyes were blown wide, fixed on Steve’s hands whilst his own went up and covered his arc reactor protectively. He didn’t even look like he was breathing.

Instantly, Steve had worked it out. Understood what exactly it was that Tony had been dreaming about.

Lungs seizing up, Steve had slowly raised his palms and backed up smoothly, feeling something squeeze down painfully under his chest. “It’s okay,” he’d whispered, his voice suddenly unsteady, “it’s okay, we’re… we’re past that, okay? We’re past that. You’re okay. It’s all done now. Just breathe.”

Tony didn’t move. Didn’t even blink. His fingers had been fisted so tightly into the pillows underneath him that his knuckles had gone white, and he’d stared at Steve blankly, like the man wasn’t even there. It wasn’t the first time something like this had happened- Tony had had two of these before, but even if they were rare, it didn’t mean they weren’t still completely fucking awful. If there was one thing on Earth that could make Steve viscerally hate every aspect of himself, it was watching Tony wake up from a nightmare about him.

He swallowed, looking down at where Tony was clutching it his arc reactor. Sometimes Steve dreamed about the sound it had made, when he’d cracked it. That was the worst kind of nightmare. Because that one had actually happened.

He wondered, occasionally, whether that made him a monster.

“You want me to call Bruce?” Steve had said numbly, sliding away, off the bed, “or you want me to… I’ll- uh- I’ll go, okay? You just relax. Get FRIDAY to run through some of the breathing exercises for you, yeah? Drink some water. It’s… we’ll talk in the morning.“

Tony had looked up at him, then, but said nothing. Only swallowed heavily, and then gently dropped his hand away from his chest. Steve smiled as best he could, getting into a standing position and backing away smoothly, careful not to make any sudden movements and cause Tony to flinch- for his own sanity just as much as Tony’s, if he was being honest.

A second later, he’d got his hand to the door knob, and decided to make the hastiest retreat possible. “I love you,” he’d made sure to whisper before leaving, “I… I’m sorry. For what it’s worth, I’m… yeah.”

“Steve,” Tony’d begun, his voice hoarse and croaky- but Steve had slipped through the door by that point, and not even a second later he’d been practically running for the elevator on the other side of the corridor, suddenly not even remotely tired at all. He’d only felt the need to punch something- very hard and very fast, for a very long time.

 

And so he had gone straight down to the Gym, and been there ever since.

 

The sun was just starting rise, the next time Steve looked up from the bag. Glancing sideways, he realised it was seven in the morning, and he’d been down there for six hours. With a small grimace, he looked down. The bag was a dirty red over stained white, and his knuckles bore the same colour, the thin bandages covering them having done little to shield him from his own heavy blows. There were spots of blood all over the floor.

He’d barely even noticed.

The world around him was quiet, too quiet, and so Steve started up again. Punch, punch, punch. The rhythm soothed his restless mind, and he concentrated on the stinging pain under his hands, letting it keep his concentration steady. It was nothing unbearable- merely a reminder. It was what Steve needed. He shut his eyes and breathed sharply through his teeth as his arms swung, trying not to remember the way Tony had been looking at him as he’d shielded his arc reactor, his heart, from Steve’s reach.

It was damning. It was… completely and utterly damning.

He felt himself snarl, hurling a punch straight into the centre of the bag hard enough that the reinforced chain groaned heavily, bending slightly from the tension. He didn’t let up; just swung again, hard and fast, feeling the ache jump through his muscles over and over again.

Sometimes, he wondered why Tony had ever let him back in.

More often, he wondered whether he even deserved it at all.

The bag jolted wildly backward as Steve threw a devastating cross, and then it finally gave up and  crumbled, the chain snapping with a note of finality and flying backward, landing on the floor with a heavy thump. Steve watched it, body coiled and tensed, panting heavily as he flexed his hands by his sides. Sweat dripped down his face, slicked his hair. He still felt like he wasn’t finished. Maybe he should start on another bag. Keep going until… until he felt better. Or until he collapsed, he supposed.

Jesus- he couldn’t stop thinking about the look on Tony’s face.

Blinking the sweat from his eyes, he shook his head and then turned, intending to go and fetch another bag from the store cupboard on the other side of the gym. He’d only managed to take three steps, however, when he heard the doors slide open in front of him and looked up in surprise, pausing in his tracks and bracing for the visitor. It was still early in the morning, and usually most of the team didn’t come down to start training until midday or later.

Of course, though, it wasn’t anyone looking for a training session. Or, at least, if he was, then Tony had made a weird choice coming down in his pajamas for it.

“Oh,” Steve said before he could stop himself. He paused where he was, watching Tony as the other man watched him right back. “Hey.”

“I thought you were gonna go back to your room for the night,” Tony said, shutting the door gently behind him as he stepped forward, “you… did you even sleep at all?”

Steve shrugged, smiling at him weakly. “Don’t worry about me,” he said, “did _you?”_

Tony looked at him, quiet for a moment. “Yeah,” he murmured a little later, “yeah, I did.” His eyes moved, heading downward from Steve’s eyes until they reached his hands, held delicately by his sides. Tony’s face fell, and he sighed heavily. “Steve-“

“-it’s fine,” he interrupted quickly, beginning to unravel the bandages hastily, “I heal quick.”

“That’s not the point.”

“There- there’s not a point to this, Tony-“

“Going down here and hurting yourself for six hours out of guilt is _definitely_ the point, Steve.” Tony swallowed and looked down, glancing over to the destroyed and bloodstained bag, the specks of blood that dotted the immediate area. His eyes looked heavy when they turned back on Steve.

Steve himself wasn’t quite sure what to say. The whole room felt heavy, and his hands no longer hurt in the good kind of way. They just stung.

“You’re gonna need to-“

“-My ma, she used to flinch when dad got angry and he moved too quick,” Steve blurted, hearing the throatiness in his own voice as he glared intently out of the window. On the other side of the room, Tony fell totally silent. “She- she loved him, I think. But he could get real angry sometimes, and she’d… yeah. Sometimes she flinched.” He turned his head, looking at Tony and feeling his face crumbling suddenly. He was tired- bone tired. He’d been working out all damn night. His hands hurt. “I don’t want you to flinch at me, Tony.”

Silence fell like a suffocating blanket once more, as Steve watched Tony through stinging eyes. The other man just looked back at him, a billion different things flitting through his face at once, all too fast for Steve to keep track of.

Then he started walking forward, holding out a hand until he was close enough to wrap it delicately around Steve’s wrist. “Let me clean this up for you,” he murmured softly, his eyes fixed on the bloody messes that were Steve’s knuckles. Without waiting for a response, he pulled Steve over to the benches at the side of the room and then pushed at his shoulder, guiding him downward. Then he wandered off, over to the medical cabinet a few feet away, and pulled out a selection of bandages and wipes before trotting back and kneeling at Steve’s feet.

He worked in silence for a few moments as he unravelled Steve’s bandages to reveal the wounds underneath. His frown grew deeper and he pursed his lips, pulling open an antiseptic wipe efficiently and then squeezing Steve’s knee in comfort as he cleaned up the dried blood. Steve bit his lip as the wipe stung his sensitive skin, but let Tony work. Even though it did virtually nothing, he knew that Tony liked to help.

“You know, when you’re a superhero, you live a vastly different life to everyone else,” Tony declared suddenly, about twenty seconds later as he looked up at Steve, “the stakes are higher. The losses are higher. Everything we do is… fraught. And so sometimes, the only way is to fight. Thor and Bruce? They’ve battled it out more times than I can even count whilst Thor’s been trying to subdue the Hulk. Clint and Natasha? You know they have. And Steve, remember- I _started_ that fight. I wasn’t in my right mind. If you hadn’t done what you did… Bucky could’ve died.” Tony looked down in shame, blinking rapidly before taking a small breath in and turning his head back to Steve, his jaw clenched in determination. “It fucked me up, yeah,” he admitted, “but you think me killing your best friend was a better alternative?”

Steve said nothing; just watched as Tony’s fingers delicately slipped over Steve’s knuckles, his touch soothing and full of love. “Nightmares suck. But they won’t change the way I feel about you. I’ve gone through this with you a hundred times before already. I debated it with myself ten times more on that first night, after Thanos, when all I could think about was falling into your arms. I know what I want.”

Tony’s eyes were resolute, and Steve could only nod silently, raising their hands and then pressing a kiss against the back of Tony’s palm, letting his mouth linger for a second as he allowed the words of his lover to sink in. He knew this, of course. Sometimes, it just took time to remember. Sometimes, the guilt still crawled back up to the front of his mind. But he knew Tony was right. Their lives were a hundred times more complicated than most of Earth’s. They just had to try and make it work anyway.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, “how are you feeling? I don’t want this to be about me. You were the one who had the damn nightmare.”

Tony smiled weakly, leaning forward and resting his head against Steve’s thigh with a small sigh. “Still not great,” he admitted, “just… generally, not even the nightmare specifically- think it’s just one of those weeks, you know? But I’ll be okay. I will.” He paused, then lifted his head a little, shooting Steve a small grin. “Better if you come up with me for a shower.”

Of course. Trust Tony to say something like that, during a situation like this. It was so… _Tony_ of him.

Steve laughed and rolled his eyes, leaning down and kissing Tony’s hair. “Sure,” he agreed wearily, “but please, today, take the day off? If you’re still feeling bad, you shouldn’t be going into an environment as stressful as that. It’s only going to make everything worse.”

Tony sighed, standing up and then tugging Steve along with him. “No promises,” he said apologetically, “I’m sorry, I just… I’ll see, alright? If it’s not too frantic, I’ll take a break.”

That was probably as good as Steve was going to get, so he nodded and followed Tony out toward the doors. “Guess that’s fair,” he said- although, really, in his opinion, _fair_ would be Tony getting the rest and relaxation he was owed, until he was ready to go back into the world again.

He’d helped save the universe. He deserved that, okay?

 

Not even ten minutes later, and the two of them had stripped down and gotten into Tony’s overly large, overly luxurious shower. Both of them were too tired to do anything particularly adventurous, and so Steve kept to simply holding Tony close and allowing the other man to press his back up against Steve’s chest, his head resting against Steve’s shoulder as he shut his eyes and let the water run off the back of his head. Steve too, shut his eyes, leaning into Tony’s temple and pressing feather-light kisses up and down his face, savouring the taste of him. Tony sighed softly, relaxing further with each press of Steve’s lips. When they got out of the shower, shit still wouldn’t be perfect- Tony would still be stressing about a hundred different separate things, and Steve was still going to worry about him. But for now, it was just good to hold him. To have him there, close, touchable. For now, they were just in their own little bubble.

The warm water stung for a short while against his hands, but the healing factor had already gotten to work within the first few minutes, and soon enough they felt fairly painless once more. Steve flexed them experimentally against Tony’s waist, then began to stroke up Tony’s body gently, the water making his arms glisten beautifully as it pattered around them. He ducked his head a little, kissing Tony’s neck as he twisted the other man’s body around so it was flush against his own, and then letting himself preen when Tony hummed happily in response, his arms slipping around Steve’s shoulders and curling into his wet hair. “Gonna have to get out soon, sweetheart,” he murmured, although the way he pressed closer into Steve’s arms didn’t help to emphasize his point much, “gotta get ready for work.”

Steve frowned, pulling away and then lifting his hand to Tony’s jaw, caressing his thumb over the stubble that grew around his beard. He chose not to respond to that; instead leaning forward and pushing Tony back until he hit the glass wall and then capturing his mouth in another round of soft kisses. Maybe he could use less respectable methods to get Tony to stay home today.

Completely aware of Steve’s plan, Tony simply smiled into Steve’s mouth lazily. “Mmm, or not,” he muttered as he curled his hands around Steve’s shoulders, “guess we could stay here for a while.”

Steve nodded silently, mouth moving downward, back to Tony’s neck, fluttering over his shoulders. He heard Tony’s head thump gently against the cool tiles and smiled, knowing exactly how much the other man loved when Steve traced his body with his mouth like this. Underneath him, Tony remained pliant as Steve curled his hands delicately around Tony’s wrists- a show of trust that he rarely extended to anyone else. It was a peeve of his that Steve had worked out a while back, and an exercise Steve often found himself subconsciously doing now and then, just to check that Tony still trusted him, still believed that Steve wasn’t going to abuse the power in his hands.

Tony didn’t bat an eyelid to it; simply muttered Steve’s name once more and then sighed. Feeling bolder, Steve lowered his mouth, pressing into Tony’s sternum, brushing his arc reactor. He traced the circumference carefully, looking up every now and then to check Tony’s face and setting his thumb over Tony’s pulse to make sure that there were no panicky spikes- but still, Tony remained easy, relaxed. That was good- meant Steve got to go to town. With a small smile, he pressed an open-mouthed kiss into the centre of Tony’s reactor, feeling the low vibration run through his lips. It was the strangest sensation, and one so unique to Tony that Steve loved it way more than he should. Leaning his forehead into Tony’s sternum, Steve pressed his tongue gently around the casing where the scar tissue still remained. He could feel Tony watching him quietly as he did so, and a second later looked up enquiringly.

“You really love it, don’t you?” Tony asked quietly, thumb swiping a water droplet off Steve’s forehead absently.

Steve smiled, keeping his eyes locked on Tony’s as he kissed the cool casing once more. The light from it bounced off his face, and he could see it reflected in Tony’s chocolate eyes. The sight was almost hypnotic in its beauty. “More than you could ever know,” he murmured; thinking of the scientific genius behind the invention his mouth was currently exploring- the fact that it kept Tony’s beautiful, wonderful heart beating every day. He could admit, he had a little bit of an obsession with the thing. It was just so… amazing.

Tony huffed. “Weirdo,” he muttered, and Steve rolled his eyes fondly before letting up and then dropping to his knees with swift efficiency.

 

Tony’s heart was always a wonderful point of worship- but there were other fun areas that Steve could set his concentration on too.

 

 

 

 

_

 

 

 

 

What with everything that had been going on at SI, Steve’s own busy schedule, the fact that the tower had been going through some major reconstruction and then the sudden upsurge in superhuman criminal activity as of late, Steve actually managed to forget the looming anniversary that had been hurtling toward them with every passing day. He supposed that was a good thing, really- but it sure as hell came as a bit of a slap in the face when he switched on the news one morning and saw coverage of people around the world beginning to lay wreaths and flowers around the memorials that had been put in place after The Snap.

One in each and every city. It had been a huge task to undergo and fund, but then again- it had been a huge amount of people who’d been lost. Not even the half that had been dusted, either. But the fallout that had come with it. Kids without families who’d had no one to look after them. Airplanes without pilots to fly them while they were taking off. Countless car crashes, safety failings, and a sudden lack of half the healthcare industry to provide aid to any of them.

Hundreds of thousands of people had been killed worldwide. And those ones hadn’t come back when they’d managed to reverse the damage done by the Gauntlet.

Steve blinked rapidly, picking up his phone and looking at the date with a sinking feeling in his gut. It was the 25th. Tomorrow… tomorrow was the two-year mark. Humanity was still healing from the biggest blow they’d been dealt in history. It was a wound that was still fresh- there wasn’t a single person in the entire world who had been left unaffected by it, and mental health resources had never been more strained as people tried to help those who’d developed long-lasting trauma. Even now, two years later, things hadn’t truly been fixed. Not entirely.

Steve watched silently as a small child placed a wreath down on the centre of the memorial in New York City. These events would be going on for a few days, at the very least, and the Avengers would undoubtedly be hounded for a comment or opinion on the whole thing. Now that he thought about it, he was pretty sure he’d been asked to give a speech at the ceremony taking place in Washington DC tomorrow. All of the team would be busy.

God. It had really been two years. It still felt… so fresh. Recent. Steve could still remember it all, clear as day in his head.

He looked down and then sat up from the couch rapidly. There was a sudden tension in his muscles; a need to get out and move. He wanted to Not Think about… that. About any of it. Not yet. Running seemed like a viable option. A better one than just sitting and staring at the wall, remembering how Bucky had turned to dust in front of him, how Tony had nearly been killed when he’d handled that gauntlet, how Steve and the team had had the entire fate of the universe on their shoulders and had very nearly lost-

 

Running. Running was a good idea.

 

He pulled on his gear and was out of the door in rapid time, feeling the cool breeze hit his face as he jogged down the streets and headed for Central Park. Something in him itched for more, further, faster, however- and by the end of the hour he found himself at the border of New York, running through Bridgeport and making his way across Connecticut. He could make it all the way up the East coast and back by the end of the day if he pushed himself. He should push himself. The strain was good.

Tony called him a few times, but Steve was too focused to answer. He’d switched his tracker on, though. Tony always asked him to do that, when he went on these kinds of runs. Just for peace of mind. Steve could appreciate that.

He kept going, heading into Rhode Island. He watched the people pass him by- double as many as there had been two years ago. They all seemed quieter today. Would be even more so tomorrow.

Sometimes, Steve thought about what would have happened if he’d done things differently. If he’d planned out the battle in Wakanda better. Maybe Thanos would never have managed to get away with it in the first place. Maybe all those people wouldn’t have died.

Maybe Steve could have saved them, rather than killing them.

He blinked the sweat out of his eyes and sped up the pace of his feet, the cold wind burning his cheeks. There was no use thinking about that. It was done. It had happened. They’d saved everyone they could and done everything possible. Now, all they could do was try and fix the damage.

It was six pm, by the time he arrived back at the tower. He was damp from the spitting rain and sweat, and his body felt stiff and cold. He’d run past the New York memorial, just to see the crowds there. There were already so many flowers, wreaths, candles. The tower itself had its own memorial too, located just at the front of the building, and so Steve made sure to get in through the back exit. He knew the crowds would mean well, but he just… wasn’t sure whether he could handle the barrage of questions just then.

Arriving in the kitchen via the elevator a few minutes later, he was met with a handful of the team hanging out quietly in the kitchen. Bruce, Thor and Natasha all smiled at him as he walked in, the same weary expressions all showing on their faces. Seemed they were all aware of the upcoming date, too.

“Hey, Steve,” Nat said quietly, “you alright? You’ve been gone all day.”

Steve nodded. “Just.. clearing my head. Any of you seen Tony?” He asked- and then when all of their faces fell, Steve’s did too, and he stepped forward tensely. “What? Is he alright?”

“He’s fine, he’s fine, don’t worry,” Bruce held up his hands placatingly, “just… struggling a little. You know how it is. He had a pretty long talk with Peter earlier, though. I think it helped.”

Steve shut his eyes and nodded. What with everything that was going on already in Tony’s life, this was probably not a great time to be reminded of everything that they’d lost when Thanos had arrived on Earth. Those sorts of things… they didn’t just go away after a few years and some therapy every Friday afternoon. No matter how much Steve wished they did.

“He in the workshop?” He asked eventually, turning back to Bruce. “I should probably check on him.”

Bruce nodded, waving a hand. “Yeah. He’s on lockdown, but he’ll probably let you in if you ask. Just… make sure to look after yourself as well, Steve.” He smiled tiredly and then cocked his head. “It’s tough on all of us. You tend to forget that you’re allowed to feel things too.”

Steve just smiled and ran a hand through his hair. “Thanks, Bruce,” he murmured, “I’ll see you ‘round.”

Bruce made a concerned little face at Steve, but chose not to carry it on and instead just waved with a small sigh. Steve knew that for the next few days, things were going to be a lot quieter in the tower than usual. But they’d pull through. They always did.

He wandered down the corridor and headed for the stairs, jumping down them two at a time. He was probably going to have to persuade Tony into eating something, maybe leaving the shop for a little while. It was highly unlikely that Tony would leave that place at all unless corralled by Steve.

As he was hopping down the stairs, his phone began to ring and he pulled it out of his back pocket. With a faint smile, he registered the number as none other than Tony himself, and swiftly pulled the phone to his ear in order to answer. “Hey, sweetheart,” he said, “how are th-“

“-Steve,” Tony began, and as soon as his name was out of the other man’s mouth Steve knew there was something wrong, “Steve, are you… are you home yet, I- I don’t- I’m just…” He gasped shakily down the line, and Steve’s brow creased in worry as he hurried his pace.

“I’m home,” he said reassuringly, “and I’m on my way down to the shop right now- are you okay?”

There was a short silence, only filled by some sort of static down Tony’s end. Then: “…shit, Steve, Steve, I can’t- my heart’s goin’ fuckin’ crazy, shit, I can’t breathe. I can’t- Oh god, oh God, I can’t…”

Steve’s world ground to a halt in front of him, and his feet temporarily froze up on the floor, locked with terror.

 _Heart attack,_ his mind threw at him, _he’s having a heart attack._

Son of a bitch.

No. God, Steve had nightmares about this, but he’d never thought… not really, not yet. Tony was healthy, he was fit. Steve had thought he’d just been overreacting, when he’d gotten too caught up in the fragility of Tony’s heart.

But now it wasn’t hypothetical any more.

“I’m coming,” Steve told him, jumping into gear and leaping down the rest of the stairwell, bouncing off the corner and then doing the same down the next flight of stairs. Fuck, fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck- he knew he should have taken the fucking elevator, “it’s gonna be alright, Tony, I’m on my way. Just stay calm, okay? Don’t try and move. Just stay there.”

Tony cursed down the line again, and Steve felt his own heart going crazy under his chest as he launched himself to the bottom of the stairs and then reached the corridor. Rolling swiftly up to his feet, he sprinted the length of the hall before reaching Tony’s doors and, without bothering to put in the code, simply careered headfirst through the glass, phone still held up to his ear. “TONY?” He shouted to the room, searching for the man desperately.

A soft “what the fuck?” came from the desk and Steve spun, spotting Tony curled up against one of the table legs, body hunched in on itself. Fear gripped at Steve, and he quickly ended the call with Tony and then dialled 911 with trembling fingers, stumbling over and getting to his knees beside Tony.

“It’s alright,” Steve said shakily, looking around the room, “you got aspirin in here? You’re supposed to chew on it. FRIDAY, is there any aspirin in here? If there isn’t, call Bruce. Tell him to fetch some as fast as he can.”

Tony looked at him in confusion. “Why… what the fuck-“

“911, what’s your emergency?” The phone operator said smoothly in his ear, and Steve felt something horrible and pained press down on his sternum as he heard the voice. He was terrified.

“I need an ambulance at the Avengers Tower _now,”_ he commanded shakily, “my partner’s having a heart attack, I gotta… he needs help. Quickly-“

 _“What,_ Steve?” Tony blinked incredulously, his hand lurching forward and pushing the phone away from Steve’s ear, “what the fuck are you doing?”

Steve blinked at him. “Tony, you need to go to the hospital. You’re-”

“I do not, Steve, this is a fucking _panic attack_ , not a heart attack, why the fuck would you think I’m  having a fucking heart attack?” Tony yelled incredulously, sucking in a sharp breath and then lifting a hand to his face. “Jesus, this is not fucking relaxing me, oh… why the fuck… fucking shit, I need- need some fucking air, holy shit-“

Steve blinked in confusion for all of half a second before the penny dropped, and he finally took a solid breath of relief.

Panic attack. Not heart attack. He’d jumped the gun a little there- Tony was okay. Well- not _okay_ , really, he was still having an attack of sorts, but hell, at least not a life threatening one.

Fuck. Maybe Tony wasn’t the only one who was on-edge today, huh?

Steve muttered an apology to the operator down the line and then ended the call, tossing the phone carelessly to the side as he zoned his concentration back to Tony and then went through the usual breathing exercises with him, the ones they’d established months and months ago to try and give Tony a routine to follow during times like this. Steve ignored the shaking of his own hands, simply staying with Tony and offering him his quiet companionship and assurance as they breathed together in the quiet workshop. Tony kept shooting him puzzled little looks every now and then, and as the minutes passed and Tony grew a little calmer, Steve felt his own residual fear start to filter through.

God, what if it had been? What if one day it was real, it was a heart attack or a stroke or- or something else, and Steve couldn’t get there in time? Tony’s heart was weaker than most; it had been through more scrapes than anyone Steve knew, and the reality was that it put him at a higher risk of things like that. Not to mention the high-stress situations that Tony put himself into every goddamn day.

One day, Steve might not be there. Tony might just be walking down the street, and his heart would fail, and that would be it.

“Steve?” Tony said gently, and he blinked in surprise as he felt a hand settle against his shoulder, “why did you automatically jump to… _that_ , when I called you? This isn’t the first time that I’ve said something along those lines. You’ve always known before what I meant by it.”

Steve bit his lip and looked down at Tony’s chest, tentatively placing his palm over the centre of Tony’s reactor. He wasn’t quite sure how to explain it. “I’ve been having a bad day,” he muttered in the end, “all the memories from The Snap-” _watching you stumble off the ship with a hole in your midsection, hardly breathing, pulse so weak I could barely hear it_ – “they were just close to the surface, I guess.”

Tony looked at him quizzically, his head cocked. He was still too pale, too haunted to look healthy. But at least he was calmer now. Focused instead, apparently, on Steve and his wellbeing. He pressed his hand gently over Steve’s as it rested against his reactor, thumb stroking across the ridge of his pinkie finger. “Come with me,” he said softly, kissing Steve’s lips with a feather-light touch and then standing slowly, pulling Steve up with him. He looked over to the shards of broken glass all over the floor and sighed before stepping through them. “You’re cleaning this up tomorrow,” he added.

Steve grinned sheepishly, keeping his fingers grazing Tony’s pulse as they headed up the stairs. Steve wasn’t sure where they were going, but he let Tony guide him anyway. When they hit the medical bay a few minutes later, Steve paused in surprise. “What are we doing here?” He asked.

Tony turned back and looked at him, giving him another quick kiss before walking over to the examination table and then hopping onto it. He shuffled his butt and got comfortable, switching on a few machines as he wrapped and attached all sorts of thingamabobs to himself. Steve followed curiously, looking down at Tony with a raised eyebrow.

“FRIDAY?” Tony called out, looking at the ceiling.

“Yes boss?”

“Run a full diagnostic on my heart. The whole shebam.” He tilted his head Steve’s way and then smiled tiredly. “I’ve got a worried supersoldier at my 3’oclock, and I don’t want him calling the ambulance every time I get short of breath.” Steve blushed and looked down, but Tony squeezed his hand reassuringly. “Not that I don’t appreciate the concern,” he added.

Steve bit his lip. “I know it’s stupid,” he couldn’t help but blurt, sensing Tony’s mouth shut and his eyes turn serious as Steve spoke, “I know… you can look after yourself, I get it, and I don’t want you to think that I’m coddling you or something because I’m not, but your heart- Tony, your heart’s just been through so much. With… with the Arc reactor, the palladium poisoning, _me_. Then Thanos fuckin’ stabs you and your lungs, they don’t work properly for _months_ afterward and I just- I just think, you know, what if one day I’m not enough to save you? I can lift a truck, for sure, but I can’t… I can’t stop that. I can’t stop heart failure or, or a stroke or whatever.”

Steve looked away, hearing Tony’s loud silence as he sat on the exam table next to him. He didn’t like thinking about that stuff. But some days, it was all that ever occupied his mind. Especially days like this- days when the reality of how close death was at any time became sickeningly clear.

He didn’t want to lose Tony. Not ever. And the thought that he _could_ …. It scared him. Scared him fucking shitless.

“Boss?” FRIDAY said quietly, making the two of them jump, “your diagnostic’s complete.”

Tony blinked, then looked up. “Oh,” he said, sliding off the table and reaching out for Steve’s hand, “throw it up on the monitor, could you FRI?”

The two of them watched as, a second later, a horde of information and data filled up the computer screen resting on the desk in front of them. Steve peered at it curiously, looking for any signs of red amongst it all. Red was usually a bad sign.

Tony observed it too, for a moment, but then he squeezed Steve’s fingers and smiled, looking over to him. “You reading this?” He asked.

Steve was. “Pulse rate’s healthy,” he murmured to himself, leaning in closer, “blood pressure elevated, but I guess that’s because of the, uh-“

“Debilitating panic attack I just had ten minutes ago?” Tony offered helpfully, and Steve nodded with a small huff.

“Yeah. That.” He slowly read through the rest of the results- eyes flitting over to the scan on the other screen, the charts in the bottom corner- digesting and coming to terms with all of the information that was laid out in front of him.

Tony’s heart, amazingly, was in pretty good condition, all things considered.

“My cholesterol levels could probably be better,” Tony said with a shrug, pulling a face at the slightly red mark on the chart, “but I mean… I’m not dying! Yay!” He turned and looked at Steve, his face softening a little as he leaned up to his tiptoes and brushed his knuckles across Steve’s cheek. On autopilot, Steve shut his eyes and leaned into the touch, his arms curling around Tony’s waist in order to pull him in tighter.

 It had been a long day. Tomorrow was undoubtedly going to be even longer.  
At least _some_ of his fears had been assuaged, though.

“I know you worry,” Tony murmured, brushing his lips across Steve’s cheek softly, “I know. And I can’t say there’s nothing to worry _about_ , because you’re right- my heart is probably weaker than other people’s. The old ticker’s been through a lotta shit, these past fifteen years or so.” He smiled and then took Steve’s face in his hands, knocking their foreheads together gently. “But listen, if ever I even think that there could be a problem, I’ll talk to you about it, and I’ll go and get it checked out.”

Steve swallowed and nodded. “You promise?”

“I promise.” Tony kissed him, slow and soft, his fingers stroking back the hairs along Steve’s hairline. Steve reciprocated gladly, holding onto Tony and feeling the other man do the same to him, both using the other as an anchor, holding eachother steady against the waves that shook them.

“I want to go to bed,” Steve sighed, wrapping his arms around Tony’s shoulder and turning the kiss into a tight hug, “I… we’ve got a big day ahead of us, tomorrow.”

Tony nodded, his hands flexing a little across Steve’s waist. “Yeah, I’m wiped too,” he admitted, “I… I’m not sure I’m gonna sleep, though. Don’t think I could if I tried.” He smiled, the expression tinted with melancholic sadness that would linger on him for a little while yet. It was a time of mourning, after all. And Tony was the most empathetic person Steve knew. He took the world’s pain on his shoulders and did everything he could to try and lift it.

Steve loved him. He loved him so, so much.

“We don’t need to sleep if you don’t want,” he murmured, thumb brushing Tony’s bottom lip, “just rest.”

Tony couldn’t help it: he winked and waggled his eyebrows. “And maybe other things?”

“Maybe other things, too,” Steve conceded with a small grin, “but only if you agree to cut back on the fatty foods. We’re gonna get some of that special butter tomorrow morning- the stuff that’s s’posed to help you lower your cholesterol and stuff.”

Tony pulled a disgusted face, rearing back. “God, absolutely not. That stuff is disgusting.”

“It’s _healthy,”_ Steve argued, pouting and looking down at the smaller man, “please? For me?”

Tony glared for a few seconds, looking like he was going to argue- but then he just sighed and leaned in, resting his head against Steve’s sternum angrily. “Fine,” he grumbled, “just make my breakfasts miserable, why don’t you?”

“Gladly” Steve said as he kissed the top of Tony’s head with a small smile. They remained like that for a few seconds- Steve shutting his eyes and just breathing Tony in, until eventually Tony pulled away and took Steve’s hand into his own, tugging him along toward the exit with a fond smile plastered over his face. “Hey- maybe we can change your morning to coffee to decaf as well,” Steve began with a small grin, watching as Tony froze up in front of him “that might h-“

“Do not even _finish_ that sentence, Captain Rogers, unless you want to sleep on the couch for the next month,” Tony told him firmly, twisting around and clamping a hand over his mouth with a look of total disdain on his face. Steve just grinned, licking Tony’s palm and laughing at the face Tony pulled.

“Okay, maybe that’s a conversation for later,” Steve conceded, wrapping his arm around Tony’s waist, “for now, let’s just… go to bed.”

Tony sighed. “Yeah. I could go for that,” he agreed quietly, turning to Steve slowly, his face falling a little as he played nervously with Steve’s sleeve. “I’m probably going to have another nightmare,” he admitted, “but I don’t want you to leave. Whatever it’s about. I promise, I- I just want you to stay.”

Steve smiled, kissing his browbone. “Then I’ll stay,” he murmured, _I’ll stay forever, if that’s what you want._

Tony looked up at him, and he didn’t speak, but the smile on his face said _‘I’d like that’._

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so like.... the end scene where tony gets his heart checked up is complete (bullshit) artistic license, and so for the sake of the plot lets just assume that Tony developed Cool Tech that can do alll those checkups in less than a minute


End file.
